The Curious Story of Milo Lopez
by nints
Summary: This is the story of what happens when the Lopezes come out to play. Quinn/OC. Brittana. Lopez Family. Hints of Faberry, cuz I like Faberry.
1. Quinn

I burst through the double doors of McKinley High.

How the hell could this happen? I had spent the entire day yesterday preparing myself: picking out my outfit, setting my clock, packing my book bag. All that work to _avoid_ being late. And yet here I was, perspiring and breathing heavily, my mind racing as fast as I was only moments ago.

Late. What a way to start off senior year.

I looked around.

Shit. I didn't think I was _this_ late.

The hallways were deserted. The dull, artificial glow of the fluorescent lights reflected off the polished white and red tile floor. There were no shoe marks, no dirt or dust from the outside on these floors. There were no papers scattered around, and no locks on the brown lockers.

I face palmed myself.

School hadn't started yet.

Making my way over to my assigned locker, the one I had every year, I heard a curious murmur down the hall. Inquisitive despite myself, I followed the noise.

As I got closer, I recognized the sounds as a hushed conversation. In Spanish.

"Bien, bien. Lo entiendo." Said a calm, masculine voice.

"pero-"

"Le dije que entiendo, Santana. Mira, yo aprecio lo que estás tratando de hacer aquí, pero yo soy un chico grande. Puedo cuidar de mí misma." The male snapped gruffly.

Santana? As in, Lopez?

I listened more closely.

There was silance. Then, the male gently said, "Hermana. Me miran. Todo va a estar bien. Te lo prometo."

"Cómo puedes estar tan seguro?" it sounded like the girl pouted.

Yup. Defenetly Sanatana.

"Yo no lo soy."

There was silance again. Then, in a smile, tired voice Santana spoke again.

"Simplemente no quiere que te lastimes."

"I no, bebe."

Bebe?

Now there was a word I knew.

_Baby_.

* * *

><p>The students filed in in one large group of bodies. I looked over their faces. No one that I knew.<p>

Freshmen.

I groaned to myself. Idiot freshmen.

I rolled my eyes as I passed a crowd of fresmen football players, their lettermen jackets polished and straight. Some dumbasses wolf-whistled as I passed them, and I had to stop myself from turning around and telling them exactle who the hell I was.

I walked to my locker and deposited my books when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Well well well, if it isn't the queen herself. What's goin' on, Q?"

I didn't even turn to face her. "Oh, nothing."

"Hello Quinn. I must say you look as exceptionatly beautiful as ever today. How have you been?" a small, tentative voice said behind me.

_No. It couldn't..._

I spun around quick. "Milo?"

The boy before me was boyishly handsome. His skin radiated a copper glow, his dark eyes were youthful and sizzling with energetic innocence, the type the you would find in the eyes of one Brittney Pearce. He was tall, with straight, black hair and long, built limbs.

"Oh my God! What are you doing here? I thought you were at Juilliard!" I ran into his arms, squeezing him tight as he chuckled against the top of my head.

"He was." Santana growled from behind him. I felt Milo stiffen and I let go of him, looking up into his nervous, conflicted face.

"San..." he sighed, turning around to face his sister. Santana held up a hand.

"Uh uh uh. I am not in the mood, Miles." she somewhat snapped.

Milo's head drooped and he pouted. "Okay."

Santana smiled gently and brushed his long, silky bangs from his eyes, kissing him on the forehead.

"I'll see you at lunch, sweetness."

Milo beamed. "Bye Tana. Love you."

"Yo también te quiero."

As Santana disappeared down the hall, Milo turned back to me.

"I can't believe it's been so long! How are you?"

"Hanging in there. How was Juilliard?"

"Oh wonderful, just-"

The warning bell sonded above us. We both looked up.

"Maybe we should go." I suggested. Milo nodded.

"May I have the privilage of walking you to your first class?"

I laughed. "Yes, kind sir, you may."

Milo snickered and held out his arm for me to take. "Muy buen. What do you have first period?"

"Calculus? You?"

"Español." Milo grinned.

"Really? _Why_ are you taking Spanish?"

Milo shrugged indifferently. "Its my nap class."

I giggled. "You, Miles Lopez, are Santana's brother."

"Damn straight." Milo confirmed smugly as we walked up to the door of my first class.

"Here we go. Calculus, room A9, taught by Mr. Adams." Milo made a face. I laughed.

"I missed you so much. We need to hang out."

I enveloped him in a hug.

"That we do." he agreed against my sholder.

"After school, maybe?"

"Sorry, can't: last minute football tryouts."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "_Football_?"

Milo shuddered, then rolled his eyes. "Don't ask."

I smiled as I let him go just as the last bell rang.

"Better get going."

"I'm not the one who should be on the receiving end of that statement."

Milo stuck his tongue out at me. "Yes, mother."

As I watched him disappear down the now-empty hallway, I couldn't help but wonder where the years had flown to. He was only nine when I saw him last.


	2. Beiste

The Lopez kid was strange, I decided. He didn't carry himself like a football player. He was graceful but determined, quick but deliberate; he had excellent posture and a surprisingly built figure. He was also rather cocky in the way the carried himself, with a long stride and a mysterious, almost devious smirk.

When he walked, he was quick enough that he didn't have to jog. Therefore, he _walked_ onto the field. A tad late, yes, and not in full uniform as instructed. I guessed a pretty boy like him didn't own pads.

"'ey! What's your name?" I called as he strode to me.

"Miles Lopez, m'am. Although people call me Milo. I prefer Milo." The boy responded.

I was surprised. He wasn't intimidated by me. Well that's a first.

"I see. Where are your pads?" I grumbled, eyeing his rather expensive looking attire.

Lopez shrugged. "I don't have any."

Then, he chuckled. "I wouldn't need them even if I did."

I scowled. "Its standard procedure. Pads are required, Lopez." I snapped.

He cocked his head to the side and smirked. "Well, seeing as this is an established football team, I would presume that you have pads."

I narrowed my eyes, but didn't say anything.

His smirk grew and molded into a look of triumph.

"Yeah, there are some over there." I jerked my head to a pile of old, worn out pads. "you know how to get them on?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "…no. But I can figure it out."

* * *

><p>"So, Lopez, what are you trying out for?" I asked gruffly.<p>

After he had managed to get his pads on, both of us made our way towards the crowd of boys standing in the middle of the field.

"I...I don't know, coach."

I grunted. "Lemme guess, you don't know a damn thing about football."

Lopez smirked widely. "You guess right. But I have faith in my abilities and I know my body very well. I bet I will be the best one out there by far, if I do say so myself. Also, I am an extremely quick learner."

"You're humble too." I noted. Lopez laughed; a light, carefree sound.

"It's not a matter of pride, m'am. Its fact." he winked proudly.

As we came closer to the crowd, I glanced over to the tall figure next to me. His dark, almost black eyes were cold, thoughtful, and...almost taunting as he studied the other players, like a predator sizing up its prey.

I blew my whistle and he jumped, staring up at me, curious.

"Alright, pansies, listen up!" I barked.

The remaining players turned around to look at me and silance fell over the field.

"Welcome to last-minute tryouts, gentlemen. AKA Hell. Now, I would like for all of you slackers to split youselves up into groups by categories. Some of my current football players _that are already on the team_ have volunteered to help me. Please go over to a designated spot as to what position you would like to tryout for. You have thirty seconds!" I shouted.

I had to supress a laugh as I watched them scatter.

"Heh."

I almost jumped when I heard a chuckle next to me.

"Lopez, what are you doing?" I growled at him.

The boy cocked an eyebrow at me and smirked. "Waiting for us to start." he informed me simply.

"Us?"

Lopez straightened and a small, conflicted pout tugged on his bottom lip.

"Well yes. Considering that I do not have a specified idea of where I go, for I have many abilities, I am convinced that the only person who knows what to do with me would be the coach. And while I am aware that the tryouts with you would be much tougher, I belive I am up for the challenge. I also have full confidence that I will make it on your team." he smirked at me.

He seemed to do that alot.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry this is so short, but it was in my head and I had to get it out. <strong>

**R&R. :p**


	3. Puck

"Puckerman! Hudson!"

The sound of coach's voice carried the length of the field easily. I stopped watching the stupid rookies that I was assigned and looked over to the track where coach was standing.

I whistled at Finn and pointed to the track. He said something to his rookie group and jogged over to me.

"What's up?"

"Coach wants us."

Finn furrowed his eyebrows but didn't ask anything as he jogged behind me to the track.

"Yeah coach?"

"Puckerman, Hudson, this is Lopez."

The coach laid a large hand on the boy's pad clad shoulder.

"Lopez?" Finn asked in wonder.

The kid next to Beiste snorted snidely and rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. Instead, he looked to his right to the distant retreating figures of the cheerios that had come out to watch all these loser freshmen tryout.

"Clean your ears out, Hudson!" the coach snapped. "Anyway, Puckerman, I want you to line up to catch. I wanna see what this kid has as far as defense."

I smirked. This would be easy. This guy was as skinny as they get: I'd say 170 pounds at the _most_.

The kid looked me over with sharp, judging eyes, an almost disgusted scowl etched deep into his copper features.

I raised an eyebrow coldly and turned my head to the side slightly.

The Lopez kid snorted again and looked back to the right, this time shaking his head.

I shrugged and turned to Finn.

"Alright. You cut to the right and I'll fire one at 'bout midfield. On 24." Finn said. I nodded.

"Okay coach, we're ready." Finn said to Beiste as we came to the thirty.

Coach nodded.

I lined myself up face to face with Lopez as Finn counted off.

When the ball was snapped I ran with all my might, but Lopez kept up with me easily. When I jerked to the right, he was with me. I swear I couldn't shake him off. It was like being followed by a shadow.

As I passed the forty, I looked up for the ball. Finn made a nice, clean pass right to me, but the split second my fingers grazed the ball I felt an unbelievably hard pressure on my left side. The ball was completely forgotten as I flew through the air and landed on hard concrete.

I rolled on my back, looking up at the blue sky, which was now occupied with cartoonish stars.

Huh. That's cool.

Lopez jogged over to me.

"Hey man did that hurt."

I nodded, grunting as I blinked the stars out of my eyes.

"Good."

Lopez smirked, and as my vision cleared I instantly recognized who he was.

"M-Milo?"

His eyes narrowed into the most venomous gaze I think I have ever seen.

"Puckerman." He spat.

"What's up man?" I grinned.

"Goddammit, Puck, cut the act." Milo growled through his teeth.

"What the hell are you-?"

"Hey Puck! You okay?"

Finn's distant shout sounded. I saw Milo look over to his direction for a moment and sigh. His head snapped back to me.

"Can you get up?" he snapped.

"I-"

"Aw jeez, Lopez, I told ya to tackle him, not color the field with his blood."

Coach's face occupied my vision as I struggled to stand up.

"You okay, Puckerman?"

I looked at Milo, who was shooting daggers so hard into my eyes I actually felt them start to sting. I looked away sharply.

"I'll be fine. Just been a while." I muttered.

Just been a while = I've never been hit that hard in my fuckin' _life_.

As I finally stood, Finn jogged over to us.

He grinned at Milo. "Dude, that was _awesome_!"

"Not bad, Lopez." Coach nodded.

* * *

><p>We ran a few more plays, although I had been deamed as being too lite for Milo and therefore, made to watch from the sidelines as Milo took down reciever after reciever. Anyone that touched the ball, didn't touch it for long.<p>

I glowered. He wasn't even getting tired! He was actually enjoying himself as he slammed everyone into the ground periodically (while still miraculously staying upright). I guess I didn't mind it that much. The kid was good. Like, _really_ good.

A quick glance to my right told me that coach thought so too.

Or maybe she didn't.

All I knew was that on the notepad in her hand, she had 'LOPEZ' written and circled about twenty times.

* * *

><p>At about six coach called us in and made us kneel.<p>

"I want to thank all of you for coming out here today. You all worked hard and I appreciate that. Unfortunately, there is no room on our roster for you."

I watched the smug grins fall off sweaty faces as coach talked. I smiled inwardly. At least I was on the team. I tuned the coach out for a couple of minutes as I watched the forever intact smugness on Milo's face growing…smug-y-er.

"…Miles Lopez."

My head snapped to the coach, waiting for her announcement.

"You are now the Titans' most valuable weapon. Congratulations."

The team clapped, but unenthusiastically. I saw Finn walk over and give Milo a pat on the rear as he said his congrats.

I rolled my eyes and walked over to Milo.

"Hey man, good job. I'm having a party on Friday, just the team, wanna come?"

"Lemme talk to Tana." Milo replied automatically.

"Well she's gonna be there." I rolled my eyes. "the girls are always invited to the Puckasaurus's parties."

Milo stiffened. "I see. I'll think about it."

He started to walk off, but I held him back.

"Hey, what was earlier about?"

"Oh, like you don't know." Milo snapped, his face twisted in that evil scowl again.

I paused to think.

"Um, I still don't-"

"MY SISTER, PUCKERMAN!" Milo screamed, loosing his composure for a split second. Then, looking around and remembering where he was, he lowered his voice and growled, "Ring a bell, dipshit? You know, the one you've been screwing for the past I-don't-know-how-many years?"

I paled.

Shit.

"Milo-"

"Shut the fuck up, Puck!" Milo snapped, "I swear if you ever touch my sister again, you will be getting what you got today in tryouts _without_ pads."

Before I could open my mouth to retort, his hand flew forward connecting with my jaw. I heard my bones creek at the unexpected assault before pain flooded my brain and vision.

Damn stars.


	4. Quinn Again

**Heeeyyy people! Guess what? I'm Baaaccckkk!**

**Anyway, this is another Quinn chapter. My original goal was to make this a Rachel chapter, but I quickly found out that I cannot write Rachel worth shit. Meh. :/**

**So this is kinda a mild but essential chapter that I feel like I will have a lot of fun writing. In this chapter you get to meet the rest of the Lopez children. **

**I have great things planned for this chapter, so enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Friday. Fridays are a good thing. Extra good, actually, when you wake up to find a cute message from a cute boy.<p>

Score.

**2 new messages**

**From: Milo :)**

**5:48 am **

**Fri. Aug. 12, 2011**

My eyebrows jumped to my hairline.

Huh. Double score.

I opened both up and the smile on my face grew wider.

**Heeeyy. G'morning. Happy Friday. =D** The first one said.

The second had only been sent a couple of minutes ago.

**Sooooooo…Tana wants me to invite u to Friday morning breakfast. Like we used to do when we were kids. Wanna come?**

I frowned but typed a quick reply.

**Yeah. Sure. Time?**

Unable to leave the warmth of my bed, I slumped back onto the pillow and rested my phone on my chest, keeping it eye level while my mind wandered.

I honestly would love to come to Friday morning breakfast. It was kind of a tradition back when Santana, Britt and I were younger. Every Friday, we would go over to Santana's house and stuff ourselves full on the mountains and mountains of food Santana always just _seemed_ to have prepared every time I was over there. Then we would watch cartoons until Santana's mother would take us to school.

All that changed, of course. For one, we couldn't really stuff our throats full of greasy, fattening goodness thanks to one Sue Sylvester, and for another, Santana's mother was…

The gentle vibrating of my phone interrupted my thoughts.

**1 new message**

**From: Milo :)**

**6:11 am **

**Fri. Aug. 12, 2011**

I opened the message hastily,

**6:30. **

* * *

><p>The Lopez estate was the most famous piece of property in Lima.<p>

Well…nothing says that it is, but I don't really think that this really needs to be written to be true. Everyone knew about it, and that's all that matters.

The house itself was a Tudor mansion sitting on about fifty acres of land. Rumor had it that the property used to belong to a Mexican drug lord before it was won in a poker match between said drug lord and Santana's grandfather. Since then the surrounding land has been settled on by both the scum and royalty of Lima, Ohio. These two social groups divided the land and eventually became to be known as "Lima Heights" and "Lima Heights Adjacent".

I rang the doorbell, eyeing the detailed engravings in the front door. On the other side of the door I heard commotion before it swung open to revile the blinding smile of one Milo Lopez.

"Ah, you made it." he chirped.

I would have responded, but the aroma of bacon clouded my starved brain and settled into my stomach.

I salivated.

"Bacon?" I asked Milo. He grinned and rolled his eyes playfully.

"Of course. I had Tana make extra for you and me."

I grinned. Milo was, besides me, the only person I knew who loved bacon as much as they loved breathing. It was one of the few things I had in common with anyone.

Milo swung the door open and let me in. I followed him through the now-unfamiliar house to the kitchen.

"Did you guys change décors?" I asked pleasantly as we weaved through the living room.

"Yeah. Tana wanted something more modern. Spacious, elegant, you know the drift." Milo informed me with a shrug.

We came into the kitchen, where we were met by all ten Lopez children sitting around the large oak table in the middle of the room.

Well, there were only nine Lopez children (Milo makes ten), and one Brittany Pierce, but I feel like they are all just apart of one family.

"Hey Q." Santana drawled, eyeing Milo and I with a smirk.

"Hey S." I greeted back, pretty sure what she was getting at. "Hey guys." I addressed the rest of the people in the room.

Around the table mutters of half awake salutations were heard.

Santana had nine siblings: Milo, Mickey, Maria, Catalina, Hendrix, Atilio, Adan, Antonio, and Dulce. Their ages ranged from just turned eighteen to almost five.

Brittney bounded up to me and hugged me tightly.

"Hey Britt." I muttered into her shoulder.

"Happy Friday." Britt chirped.

Seriously, what was with all the chirping this morning?

"Miles ser un caballero, a conseguir un poco de tocino." Santana spoke to her brother.

"I feel like I should start carrying around a translator with me." I muttered. Mickey, the third eldest of the family, laughed.

"She asked Milo to get you some bacon." he informed me.

Mickey was almost thirteen, and had hit his pubescent stage early. This was common with the Lopez kids. Look wise, Mickey was lanky, with rounded facial bones and large, light eyes. Almost the opposite of Milo and Santana, who were all sharp, angular features and dark colors, Mickey had a sickly look to him. His skin was not a rich as Milo's and there were noticeable dark circles under his eyes. His hands were clammy and trembled slightly.

Mickey was diagnosed with cancer four years ago, and had been getting worse ever since.

Milo waved me over to my seat, in front of which there was a plate stacked high with fried pork. I walked to the table and Milo pulled the seat out for me.

"M'lady." he said, his voice mockingly deep.

I giggled and sat, turning my attention to the plate in front of me.

I munched on the bacon slowly, savoring the flavour.

Ah. Happy place.

Out of the courner of my eye, I could see Santana watching me with a quizzical little frown on her face, but I didn't say anything.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey brighteyes, hope your day is going well. xx<strong>

I stared at the text message with what I was sure was a lovestruck grin.

"Who's got you so cheery, chica?"

"Your brother." I answered without looking up from the phone.

"Oh."

The tone of her voice made me look up.

Santana stood in front of me, eyes focused on something that wasn't there, a sad little smile on her lips.

"Santana...?"

"Don't hurt him, Quinn. Please."


	5. Santana

**Santana! Hurrah! **

**Cute little scenes of Santana/Milo sibling interactions w/ a bit of Brittana and Santana being the over-protective sister and (wannabe) girlfriend that I imagine her to be. **

**Profit!**

* * *

><p><strong>Operation: Lunch Time Predicament<strong>

Quinn looked at me, puzzled.

"What do you mean…?" she askedslowly.

"Exactly what I said: don't hurt my brother. He's never had a girlfriend, and he sure as hell doesn't know about you and everything you do when you're with somebody." I said bitterly.

Truth was, I knew that Milo was into Quinn long, _long_ before he even went to Juilliard (when he was nine.). They were just always meant to be sweethearts. Problem was, though, I didn't want Milo getting mixed up with Quinn now. After everything that happened with the baby gate two years ago I didn't want my baby (little) brother involved with a girl who was in risk of cheating on him.

And its not because I don't trust Quinn. Well, maybe it is a little of that. But regardless, Milo is just a naive boy, and I don't want him getting in over his head with a far more experienced girl.

"Well who's fault is it that Milo's never had a girlfriend?" Quinn asked rather snotty. I raised an eyebrow.

"You know damn well why I can't let him have one. The boy wears his heart on his sleeve! He's like an advertisement for heartbreaks." I growled.

Oh, she definitely wasn't getting points from me right now.

Quinn's features softened.

"Do you really think I would hurt him, S? I raised him with you, I grew up beside him. I've been in love with him since I-don't-know how long. He's just as much of a brother to me as he is to you. Why the hell would I ever, _ever_ hurt him?"

The speech was heartwarming, but mine refused to be budged.

"I don't know Quinn. Why would you hurt Finn, hmm? Puck? Sam? Those are three of the sweetest guys a girl could ever ask for. You treated them like shit."

And with that, I walked away.

* * *

><p>In between classes and lunch is usually the only time that Milo and I see each other. When Milo transferred I had them assign him a locker next to mine to maximize our time together between classes, considering the fact that he is only a freshman and I am a senior, therefore making our class time together limited.<p>

Since we have the same lunch, Britt, Milo, Quinn and I usually walk there together.

Today, however, Brittney had to stay after to catch up on some "makeup work" in the library with Mr. Gonzalez.

I ground my teeth. That perverted bastard. It was the first week of school—Brittney didn't have any assignments. There was no makeup work, damn it!

There was a soft thud as my brother leaned casually against his locker.

I glanced at him.

Staring idly down the hall, with an almost dreamlike smile on his features, he was completely at ease.

I scowled. Well whoopty-doo for him.

"What's got you so riled, sis?" Milo asked, not even looking at me.

I didn't even ask how he knew that I was annoyed: he didn't even know. The best explanation he had for it was that he just sensed it.

"Is it Britt?" he asked, now looking at me with concerned attention.

"Yeah." I sighed, closing my locker. I continued to look at it though, as if it was open and held the answers to all my problems.

"Being hit on again?" Milo guessed.

"Mmhmm." I hummed, finally turning to him.

Milo's face molded a million times as soon as he caught sight of my face. First, he looked at me adoringly, then skeptically, until finally his face decided to settle on a frown that was difficult to read.

"What's wrong?" I asked, panicking for a split second. Milo didn't frown often. Almost never, actually, and the fact that he was now was a clear cause of concern. Or, at least it was for me, seeing as I am his big sister.

"We need to rescue her." He stated decidedly, his features now resembling triumphant determination.

I laughed at how seriously he was taking the ordeal.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just your choice of words. And as much as I would love to save her from the clutches of the perverted, forty-year-old…dragon, I'm starving and I'm sure that Q is waiting for us." I joked.

Milo pouted.

"Don't make fun of me." He ordered in a childish voice, and I almost expected him to stomp his foot in a very Rachel Berry fashion.

He did.

The action threw me into another fit of giggles.

"Santana!" he whined, his pout doubling in size.

"I'm sorry," I apologized through my laughter. "You're just so cute when you do that."

Without thinking, I reached out my hand and pinched his cheek. He screeched and jumped away, his cheeks glowing crimson.

"Santana, don't do that!" he hissed, coming back the couple of inches that he had created between us.

I smiled innocently.

"Why?"

"Because we're at school—and I'm fifteen." he huffed.

I laughed. "Heh, ok Mr. Fifteen. Guess you're too old for cookies after school, too then."

And with that, I walked off down the hall towards the library with a satisfied smirk.

* * *

><p>"So. What's the plan of action?"<p>

"We're not in the military, Mile." I sighed.

Milo and I had made our way to the library and were now stalling with playful bickering behind a tall bookcase, watching Mr. Gonzalez watching Brittney do something on the computer.

"Obviously, because you would make a terrible general." Milo retorted, but I wasn't paying attention. Gonzalez had positioned himself with one hand resting on Britt's shoulder, while the ohter was over her's guiding the mouse that was in her hand.

I saw red and was seconds away from jumping out from our cozy hiding spot before I registered hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently.

"Shh. Calm, Tana, calm." Milo muttered into my ear.

I relaxed.

Well, until Gonzalez scooted closer to Brittney effectively pressing his leg against hers.

I growled.

Milo's arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders, probably as much to restrain me as to comfort me, and he had lost all attempts to comfort me in English.

"Tranquila, cariño. Shh. Estás bien. Escúchame, amor. Calma, bebe chica."

"Hey! Slut it up somewhere else, Lopez."

A female voice broke the trance of my brother's comforting voice.

I snapped my head towards the source to find Allison Boone standing about a foot away, arms crossed over her chest, a nasty, self-satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Fuck off!" I snapped.

She sneered and ignored me.

"Who's the man candy?" she asked, eyeing Milo with an almost predatory look.

"He's not man candy. He's my brother." I growled, getting to my feet and stepping over him. "And you need to stop eye-raping him before I dig your eyes out of your skull with a wooden spoon."

Allison rolled her eyes, annoyed, but didn't say anything more as she stalked to the computers.

"You a'ight, San?" Milo questioned, laying his hands on my shoulders affectionately again.

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

"Yeah. I just really, _really_ don't like her." I said.

"Thanks for standing up for me." he muttered.

I was surprised. Milo usually didn't like me to be a protective sister and point a gun at any girl that came within thirty feet of him. (Doesn't stop me, but still) The fact that he was actually was grateful for my actions was a complete shock to me.

"'Course. Anything for my baby brother." I teased him. He scowled.

"_Little_ brother." He corrected with a huff. "And anyway, what do you wanna do about Britt?"

I glanced anxiously at the pair sitting by the computers.

"Just leave keep an eye on them. I don't want to make a scene."

"Heh. Too late." he announced, pecking me on the cheek.

"well do you want to go and interupt them?"

Milo glanced sideways, trying to decide.

"Sure. I know this situation is making you see red. And I don't wanna be mistaken for a boyfriend trying to mack on you while I'm actually comforting you. Again."

Milo got up out of his sitting position and brushed away invisible pieces of lint from his jacket.

I rolled my eyes impatiently.

"You look fine. Now go."

He scowled at me.

"I have to make myself presentable in front of an elder. And a female. _You're_ the one who taught me that, Tana." He stated matter-of-factly, and walked away.

* * *

><p>I watched as Milo made his way back to me with Brittney in tow, leaving a very flustered and fuming Gonzalez behind.<p>

He smirked triumphantly.

"Piece 'o cake."

"What'd you say to him?" I asked, wrapping my pinky around Brittney's.

"I told him that: firstly, make up work could be done at home. Secondly, by keeping Brittney out of lunch he is depriving her of the nutrients that a "healthy" school lunch provides." he made a face and Britt giggled.

"And?" I pressed.

"And that we've totally been watching him trying to put the moves on Britt and if he doesn't want to lose his job, then he should never do it again." Milo stated proudly.

I mussed his hair.

"Good boy."

He scowled, trying fruitlessly to fix the damaged my hand had done to his locks.

"I'm not a dog." He grumbled as the lunch dismissal bell sounded.

"Alright. I guess I'll see you guys between classes." Milo declared, starting to walk away.

I caught his elbow.

"Where are you going?" I asked sternly.

"Uh, Geometry...?"

I scowled. "You most certainly are not. You haven't had lunch."

"Eh, I'll be okay." Milo shrugged.

"No!" I snapped. "You're a growing boy, you need your nutrients."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, Milo, Britt and I were sharing a booth at Breadstix.<p>

"I still don't understand why we couldn't just go to like McDonald's." Milo muttered, sipping on his water.

"Because you need to carbo-load. You have a game tonight." I answered calmly.

"Yeah, and you have a test in your third period. I don't see you caring about that."

I smiled warmly at him as our plates were set in front of us.

"That's because you matter more than my grades do. Now eat." I ordered.

Milo rolled his eyes, but picked up his fork.

"Best lunch period ever." Brittney decided.

* * *

><p><strong>UH! DONE!<strong>

**Wow this is a long chapter...well, for me, anyway. I honestly don't know how some authors do it: writing 6,000 word chapters. My ass! :/**

**Anyway, R&R, and leave suggestions on who you would like to see next chapter. **

**Kay bye... :)**


	6. Puck and FB

**...Is it bad that I have almost all of chapter seven written, and that I had half done before I even wrote this?**

**Game night is in this chapter and the Titans r gonna kick some...yeah =P**

**Told from Puck's point of view, but w/ a bit of an anonymous FB. I guess its Milo's FB, but I made myself promise to not have a Milo chapter until its the very last one, so there will be nothing from Milo's point of view. But we will see his Facebook page alot :)**

**Have I mentioned that I love writing facebook? I love reading it too. It's just easier than actual character interactions b/c it doesn't envolve feelings and facial expressions. Also, It's a good way to stack up some words. =DD**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong> has posted a new note.

_Boredom + waiting to play football + Facebook= QUIZ TIME!_

1. WHAT'S YOUR NICKNAME NAME?  
><strong>Nickname name? =D<strong>**  
><strong>**Milo (everyone), Mile (Tana), Miley (Michelle), Rainbow Boy (Mickey…), Juilliard Star Child (Kyle).**

2. WHERE DO YOU LIVE?  
><strong>That's kinda personal.<strong>

3. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE THING TO DO?  
><strong>I love to do lots of things, but I suppose my favorite would be spending time with my beloved family. 3<strong>

4. HOW TALL ARE YOU?  
><strong>5'9..and a half ;)<strong>

5. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?  
><strong>Anything Santana cooks<strong>.

6. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES?  
><strong>Dark brown, almost black.<strong>

7. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN?  
><strong>I really don't know the answer to that anymore...<strong>

8. WHO DO YOU LOVE?  
><strong>My family and anyone whom I consider family.<strong>

9. WHAT'S YOUR MOM'S FAVORITE SHOW?  
><strong>...I wouldn't know. And really, what kind of question is that?<strong>

WHAT ARE YOUR PARENTS NAMES?  
><strong>Carlos and Isadora <strong>

HOW MANY SIBLINGS DO YOU HAVE?  
><strong>Too many ;) haha. I have 9 <em>sibling<em> siblings but I also have lots of people that I consider my siblings.**

WHAT KIND OF PETS DO YOU HAVE?  
><strong>Tana won't let me have a puppy...she's a dog person too! :(<strong>

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ANIMAL?  
><strong>The lion. Rawr.<strong>

DID YOU DO WELL IN SCHOOL?  
><strong>Yes. Straight As. <strong>

WHAT DID YOU DREAM ABOUT LAST NIGHT?  
><strong>I had a nightmare about my failure in today's football game.<strong>

WHAT'S YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?  
><strong>To lose my family.<strong>

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO RIGHT NOW?  
><strong>I always have an underline need to dance.<strong>

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AT IN 10 YEARS?  
><strong>I have no idea. Maybe married?<strong>

ARE YOUR PARENTS MARRIED/SEPARATED/ OR/ DIVORCED?  
><strong>...I don't wanna talk about it...<strong>

DO YOU LIKE CHOCOLATE?  
><strong>I LOVE chocolate! But I can't eat much of it or my acne flairs up. D=<strong>

ARE YOU EASILY AMUSED?  
><strong>Yes. I live to laugh and make others laugh.<strong>

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SONG?  
><strong>I have many.<strong>

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE T.V. SHOW?  
><strong>I do not watch T.V.<strong>

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE?  
><strong>I like the documentary on J.P. Morgan on Netflix:<strong>  
><strong><em>Morgan: Emperor of Wall Street.<em>**  
><strong>Good movie. Watch it.<strong>

WHO'S YOUR HERO?  
><strong>I have lots of heroes.<strong>

WHEN'S YOUR BIRTHDAY?  
><strong>September 23rd.<strong>

WERE YOU A DIFFICULT CHILD?  
><strong>No, I don't think so.<strong>

WHAT'S YOUR BEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY?  
><strong>Any one spent with my family.<strong>

WHAT/WHO MAKES YOU HAPPY?  
><strong>My loved ones and the arts :)<strong>

DO YOU CRY A LOT?  
><strong>Yes, actually, I am very emotional for a male.<strong>

EXPLAIN YOURSELF IN ONE WORD.  
><strong>Gentleman.<strong>

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE MOST?  
><strong>A lot of things, but mostly family.<strong>

WHERE IS YOUR DREAM VACATION?  
><strong>My family doesn't like to take vacations. See, my father has bred a bunch of workaholics, therefore, if we don't work we get restless and bitchy =**

ARE YOU BILINGUAL?  
><strong>Sí, hablo español. =D<strong>

LAST QUESTION: DO YOU HAVE PATIENCE?  
><strong>Lots! Although I do not like it when questions scream at me. =(<strong>

**17 people **like this**.****  
><strong>**Comments**

**Santana Lopez **I adore you 3

**Mickey Lopez** question #1, Nickname name #3 = :P

**Kyle Moore** Hehe. This made my day, Star Child, I miss you. :) 3

**Ali Andersen** U R awesome dude.

**Michelle King** Miley! I miss you! :'( ...Cute quiz tho:) 3

**Quinn Fabray** =D

**Miles "Milo" Lopez** Santana: me more.  
>Mickey: =  
>Kyle: aww I miss you too, Ky. :'(<br>Ali: Thank you:)  
>Michelle: I miss you too!<br>Quinn: =D x 2

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong> has listed **Brittany Pierce** as his sister.

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong> has listed **Kyle Moore** as his brother.

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong> has listed **Michelle King** as his sister.

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong> has listed **Ali Andersen** as his brother.

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong> has added **Being Awesome**, **Dancing**, **Singing**, **Broadway **and **Football **to his Activities.

**Comments**

**Quinn Fabray** Being Awesome?

**Miles "Milo" Lopez** Its a Lopez thing =P

**Santana Lopez** ^Like =D

**Quinn Fabray** ...Of course. Oh and btw, why didn't you add me to your extensive list of siblings? =/

**Miles "Milo" Lopez** Oh! I'm sorry! =0

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong> has listed **Quinn Fabray** as his sister.

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong>  
>Better?<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Yeah. For now, at least.<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>For now...?<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Well, if things go my way, I'll be the subject of <em>"Miles "Milo" Lopez is now in a relationship with..."<br>;) ;)_

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>o_0<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>...<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>...sorry. I, uh, would like that very much...I'm just not used to being hit on...<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>hahahaha. LIES! Plenty of girls hit on you, Milo...Heaven knows Santana complains enough about it.<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>Psht! They mean nothing to me. And Santana is just naturally overprotective. But I'm a good, faithful boy.<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>That's good to hear. It will save me some headaches in the future. And I'm sure it's saving Santana some right now.<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>...hm, I didn't peg you as a territorial one ;)<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Only when I've got something that I want to keep.<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>.Sigh. You and Santana will be the death of me. I guess I can't blaim it though. I am a lucky catch ;D.<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Yeah, keep telling yourself that, hot stuff.<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>Nah, I've got plenty of girls to do it for me ;)<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Grrr...<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>Haha, sorry Q, but I'm not yours yet.<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>YET! That reminds me, since we're talking about this, why haven't you asked me out? =

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>Tana<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Oh, c'mon, Milo. You're a big boy.<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>...I know, but...she's my sister, Q. We tell eachother everything. And when I say everything I mean EVERY DAMN THING. Even distasteful things like...nevermind.<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Like what?<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>...uh...well, we talk about stuff like sex dreams...and lesbian sex...and sex in general...also, masturbation.<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>O_O<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>But it's not vulgar! We just talk about the medical and psychological importance of it. Its completely decorous.<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>...you there?<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>Quinn...? Did I scare you off?<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Nah, I just had to look up what decorous meant...<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>LOL. Anyway, now you know why I can't ask you on a date without telling Tana.<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Yeah. Thanks for the mental images.<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>Mental images about what? ;)<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Nevermind. I g2g. Bye, sweetheart. :*<p>

**Miles "Milo" Lopez**  
>...Okay. Bye...<br>Sorry if I said something offensive...

* * *

><p><strong>Quinn Fabray<strong>  
>Should I tell Milo about the other year?<p>

The chat poped up on my screen, interrupting my...sexually stimulating video.

**Noah "Puck" Puckerman**  
>Might as well. Someone will eventually. Y? U2 gonna?<p>

I scowled at the screen. Quinn and I have been over for almost two years, but the idea of her doing something remotely similar to what we did still puts an itch between my shoulderblades.

**Quinn Fabray**  
>No! Not everyone is a pig like you, Puckerman. D=<p>

I exhaled, relived and completely ignoring her shot at my morality. When you hear as many of them as I do, they tend to fly over your head.

**Noah "Puck" Puckerman**  
>Meh. Whateves. So how is little Miley?<p>

Don't get me wrong, Milo and I are not at our best stage right now because I slept with his sister. But that's whatever, and I honestly don't know who went and shoved a stick up his ass, but Milo and I grew up together. We will be bros for life.

Him, Britt, Quinn, Santana and I have always been inseparable...well, until Milo left for school and we entered middle school. Long story short, I'm always going to have all of their backs. And yeah, maybe I will indulge in a little fun with a few who are willing, but in all truth its not just sleeping around for me. Not with them. They're my sisters.

I rolled my eyes.

They were my firsts, and I was theirs. I know that a lot of guys just want sex and that the idea of a girl being a virgin just gets us started, but for me, my virginity was something that was kinda valuable. I think that I made a good choice in giving it away to someone I knew and trusted, even if I would have rather hooked up with a cougar. And...even if it did consequently make Milo hate me.

**Quinn Fabray**  
>Really good. Did you know him and Santana talk about lesbian sex?<p>

Speaking of...

I turned back to my video, clicking the start button.

**Noah "Puck" Puckerman**  
>I'm not surprised. Lucky dog...<p>

**Quinn Fabray**  
>UH! God, I'm leaving, Puck.<p>

_Quinn Fabray has signed off._

I shrugged and turned back to the screen, uninterested.

* * *

><p>The first home game is usually a huge deal, because even though we kinda suck, we are one of the only schools with a football team within, like, a two hundred mile radius.<p>

I looked to the front of the room, where the coach was giving some pre-game words of encouragement:

"Alright. First game of the season, boys. These guys are pretty easy, but I still want you to give it all you've got. Now, freshmen, this is your first game ever for the Titans. Make it worthy and maybe you'll have a future with this team. Seniors, this is your last season. Most of you have grown up with this team, and this game could decide your next move in life. We've got a huge crowd out there, so this is for them too. So please, don't embarrass me."

I looked across the huddle of red jerseys to Milo, who was sitting in the corner, completely still and stone-faced, dark eyes following the coach's every move.

I snorted, but joined in on the pre-game huddle for a prayer.

* * *

><p>Ok, so I'm suffering from some writer's block right now, and IDK how long it will last. But I managed to squeeze this out of myself, so I hope you enjoy. The next chapter is actually gonna be game night, but it starts a few hours before on the day of friday. It's told from Mickey's point of view, and it's not all rainbows and sunshine. I'm gonna throw some angst in there just to spite myself. :P<p>

K Byyeee


	7. Mickey

**Ok, so I think that I will start telling you guys the songs that I am listening while I write this stuff, because I know that I am effected by the songs I listen to while I write. So if you want to suggest a song I should listen to while writing by all means...**

**That being said, can you say "stand back, Buenos Aires!" ;P**

**OH! and btw, it is kinda OOC(?) about Santana's sexuality (she came out and shit b4 this story)...and it is set *_on the morning of friday_* b/c I have some things planned for game night that involve Mickey and yummy angst. And yeah, I know that this story is suppose to be kinda happy-go-lucky but I just had to add some depth to the story/Milo. :P**

* * *

><p><strong>Mickey Lopez <strong>has posted a new note.

_The weekend_

**The weekend at my house is fairly calm…for my house. See, when you have ten kids (nine. Tana isn't a kid anymore :P) things are never as they are in a normal, 2-or-1 child home.**

**The weekend usually starts off by Santana (and Milo nowadays) in the kitchen fixing breakfast for the family. Tana wants us to keep up with culture, so weekend meals are home cooked and Spanish. Everyone loves it, because everyone loves Santana and she's the best cook (ever) and we love it when she cooks for us...oh, and Milo's not that bad either.**

**Anyway, after breakfast we usually visit papa and then spin an arrow to decide who will choose the activity for the first part of the day. Brittany joins us halfway through the day frequently, and then we just kinda do whatever Brittany wants to do.**

**Before you wonder if we know, I'll answer you that _yes_; the whole family knows that Santana is gay. And in love. With Brittany.**

**It kinda obvious.**

**Like, really.**

**Anyone with eyes can see it.**

**...Yeah.**

**Don't get me wrong. Our family is completely, totally, 150% pro-gay. I mean, we would paint our friggen' house RAINBOW if we could. But Tana thinks that it's too tacky, therefore it doesn't get done.**

**No matter how much Milo begs.**

**;D**

**7 people **like this

**Comments:**

**Miles "Milo" Lopes **Rude! You better sleep w/ one eye open tonight, jerk.  
><em>1 minute ago * Like<em>

**Santana Lopez **Miles! No torturing your brother! :(  
><em>About a minute ago* <strong>Mickey Lopez<strong> likes this._

**Miles "Milo" Lopez **...so I CAN shave his head? You always say he needs a haircut ;)  
><em>About a minute ago * Like<em>

**Santana Lopez **NO! Mickey, it's time for breakfast, dear.  
><em>Seconds ago * Like<em>

**Quinn Fabray** it's not even the weekend yet, Mick. :P  
><em>Seconds ago * <strong>2 people <strong>like this._

* * *

><p><strong>Miles "Milo" Lopez<strong>  
>one eye open, bro. One eye open. =D<p>

* * *

><p>I scowled at the screen. I probably shouldn't have done that. Milo was, for the most part, overly adoring and gentle. But once egged on to his very near breaking point, he was known for his revenge. The only person who was better at executing payback than him was Santana, and that's only because she got more practice.<p>

I closed my eyes and collected myself, preparing to face my loving (but extremely loud and obnoxious) family downstairs.

I padded down the stairs into the living room, hearing the hoots and hollers from the dining room. I sighed again and stepped into the loud room, clad in my pajamas and a too-small t-shirt.

Milo was eating (big surprise) and talking to Santana who was reading the Friday newspaper. Hendrix was sitting at the table, quietly finishing his breakfast while Atilio, Adan, and Antonio sat on the couch in the adjacent TV room, catching up on the overnight sports news on ESPN. Maria and Catalina were chatting excitedly about boy-this and boy-that.

"'Morning Puppy." Milo smirked nastily at me as I stepped into the room completely.

"'Morning Rainbow Boy." I shot back. Milo raised an eyebrow and threw his balled napkin at me.

"Boys." Santana warned from the other side of the table, not looking up from her newspaper.

I walked over to her and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Morning Tana. Coffee?"

"Pot." she answered, turning her attention to Dulce, who was gurgling happily in her highchair while slobbering on her breakfast.

I walked over and poured myself a generous amount of black liquid into a large mug and sipped it.

Perfect.

Taking my precious stimulus, I trekked into the TV room and said good morning to the triplets, who were watching ESPN on the flat scene, and then made my way back to the table, sitting next to Hendrix.

"Hey. How'd you sleep?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"What about you?" he asked looking down at his untouched breakfast.

"Eh, fine." I answered as Santana set my plate of food in front of me.

Breakfast during is the lightest meal of the day in Spanish countries. Point is, my family doesn't really follow this tradition unless we have some sort of party at lunch. Santana usually fixes a variety of traditional breakfast foods on the weekend, and they always get eaten.

"Gracias." I smiled up at her.

"De nada. _Ahora come_."

* * *

><p>School usually isn't a large problem for me. I, alike the rest of my kin, am gifted with above-average intellect. But unlike the rest of my kin, I am not a social butterfly. Milo has this colossal theory that, summed up, is basically the zodiac sign and trait theory.<p>

But what is a big problem for me is the fact that I don't have any friends at school.

I don't know, sometimes I just don't feel like I fit in. Like, _anywhere_. Not even within the walls of my house.

I mean, out of all of my siblings, I'm the only right-handed one. Also, I'm the only one who doesn't play a type of sport. I don't have any talents or abilities, we except maybe the piano but Milo plays that better than me. I'm not that good looking, and I would rather avoid social situations.

Truth is, I'm kinda depressed.

I looked around the drop off line, watching kids get out of their various cars and talking with each other as they make their way to the front door, coats wrapped tightly around themselves against the stinging Ohio air. I shoved my hands deeper into the large pockets of my long Calvin Klein woolen jacket and made my way slowly to the front door.

* * *

><p>When I got inside my first stop is Mr. Reid's room.<p>

I knocked softly and he looked up from his laptop, smiling warmly at me.

"Sir." I nodded and walked inside the classroom. It was about ten degrees hotter in that classroom than it was in the rest of the school, so I took my jacket off, looping it around my left arm.

"Mickey. What can I do for you?" Reid's persistent smile is ever-shining as he patiently leaned back in his office chair and stitched his fingers together on his stomach.

I almost laughed, because he looked so much like Milo at that moment that it's nearly funny. And then I remember what I came here for in the first place.

"Sir, I was wondering if there is any way for me to try out for the team."

Reid looked momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, Mickey, but tryouts were weeks ago."

"But-but that's not fair. I-I was in chemo recovery until the week before school started." I sputtered, wondering why the hell my cancer had to ruin everything for me.

"You have-?" Reid started, wide-eyed.

"Cancer? Yes." I almost snarled.

Reid looked at loss of words or actions, so I sighed and bowed my head, knowing that I was fighting a losing battle. The cancer had won and escaped with the spoils of victory. Like always.

"Thank you anyway, sir." I said and walked out of the classroom.

* * *

><p>I lifted weights for the first part of the day.<p>

There was just something hypnotic about pushing my fragile body to grow up and be that of a man's. Something satisfying about the burn in my muscles as they burned, craving release from the unusual amount of workout.

When I started to pant I stopped and put the weights neatly on the shelve with their brothers. I didn't want to disregard my doctor's orders _too much_.

By the time I was gathering my stuff to go to second period, the voices were coming closer.

Great. Just what the doctor ordered. Meatheads.

The voices kept advancing as I tried not to look too frazzled in being trapped. Damn.

* * *

><p>I have long since given up using the male bathroom.<p>

My presence in there is usually unwelcome, resulting in me being painfully removed...read: literally thrown out.

I guess it's because the whole town knows about my sister being homosexual now, which kinda puts me into the same category.

Don't get me wrong: homosexuality is not hereditary (Gasp!).

But they don't know that.

So shh, 'kay?

'kay.

I gingerly touched the already swelling skin under my eye, wincing slightly. The boys that had come into the gym locker room were none other than some of my worst tormentors. Granted, that category makes up pretty much the whole football team, but still.

They managed to corner me and, after a brilliant suggestion from Gus, the star linebacker, they started playing almost like a game of hot potatoes with me, pushing me from one to another and occasionally sending me spiraling towards the metal lockers.

Which is how I'm going to have, oh, I'd say about five shiners when I wake up tomorrow.

Oh well. Nothing a little makeup and some long clothes can't fix.

But for now I had to get to second period...read: out of the girls' bathroom before I got caught.

* * *

><p>Milo likes to sing.<p>

And when I say he likes to sing, I mean he _really_ likes to sing.

He sings everything and anything, everywhere and anywhere, no matter the circumstances or company. He once broke out in song in my father's hospital.

I don't know _why_ he broke out in song in said hospital, but then, I didn't really want to know.

Therefore, when I stepped into the house after a long day at school to almost have my ears blown out by the volume at which my brother was singing _Bist du bei mir._

_Bist du bei mir, _for anyone who has never heard it, is a _German_ piece.

Like I said, I gave up on trying to understand my brother a long time ago.

I dropped my bag on the floor of my bedroom and threw myself onto the bed as I heard the shower stop and Milo's strident singing subside into pleasant, quiet humming of the melody.

I buried my face in the pillow, listening to him hum as he shuffled around our shared bathroom and closed my eyes just for a split second.

"Hey. You're home!"

God, I'm trying to sleep here!

"Obviously," I snapped, tilting my head just a bit so that my voice could carry better. Mumbling was not polite. "G'way. 'M trying to sleep."

I'm sure he rolled his eyes, but I didn't hear a reply and a second later his bedroom door, across the hall from mine, slammed shut.

I closed my eyes again and sighed. I hated being a jerk. I hated that nobody ever said anything to me _about_ being a jerk. They never scolded me, never commented or complained. They just took it in stride, most likely blaming my recoveries from chemo. My weariness as I battled a loosing battle with a strong disease was most likely the cause for my snapping at them, they thought.

I groaned. By treating me like a special case, they infuriated me more! Why couldn't I just feel normal, be treated normal, for _once_?

"H-hey, are you coming to the game?" Milo's voice sounded in my bedroom.

I winced, partially because he sounded almost scared, and partially because he was in my bedroom. I didn't like people to be in my room.

I craned my neck and looked at him, standing hesitantly at my bedroom door, hands buried deep in his jean pockets, hair still mostly wet and pushed out of his eyes.

I smiled weakly. "Yes. Of course."

He grinned. "Awesome." then his face hardened, almost contemplating. "You—you look tired. Are you sure you wanna come? It's okay if you don't, I'm sure I can get someone to film it or something."

I clenched my jaw. "Milo. I said I would come. I just need a nap, okay? I'll be fine."

He looked unsure, but nodded and backed out of my room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

><p>I can proudly admit that I've never been to a football game before.<p>

I just doesn't appeal to me to sit on rock-hard, ass-cold bleachers in thirty degree weather watching a bunch of sweaty guys run around the field and tackle each other with their bodies.

Especially since our team sucks.

But I guess it does provide me with some source of entertainment watching that huge-ass quarterback take a beating. Milo had talked about him during dinner often. He was a pretty good guy, Milo said, but kinda slow.

As I watched him get sacked for the fourth time in a row I concluded that he sucked at football too.

Bored, my eyes wandered to Milo's sitting figure just a foot away from the sideline and I sighed. What was the point in coming to a game to watch your brother play if your brother didn't even play?

I rolled my eyes and looked-on as the ref signaled a timeout. The players all jogged over to the quarterback and huddled as the coach waved Milo over. She whispered something in his ear and patted his shoulder as he took off onto the field.

Finally.

The timeout was over and I watched the players take their respected positions. Milo was on the very end of the O-line. I didn't know the position, but I think the triplets had said he was a...tight end?

I made a mental note to ask/research about said position.

As my eyes focused back on the field, the play was in motion. Milo was flying down the field, leaving the defender responsible for him in the dust. I smiled. Milo had always been fast. Now if only that quarterback could get a ball to him, this game could be worth my time.

As if he could read my mind, that oaf threw the ball. It lingered in the air for a while, but eventually reached it's target; Milo's hands.

Something happened then. The tame, disappointed crowd around me _exploded._ There were shouts and screams and hoots of joyous victory as Milo crossed the goal line and stepped into the end zone.

The score was tied at six now, and the crowd was going crazy. the teams regrouped as our kicker came onto the field.

* * *

><p>At halftime the score was 20-6, as I quickly found that the other team had just as much talent as ours did on offense, read: none, and we were able to hold them off rather easily. Milo's reputation grew with every touchdown he scored and the opposing team's moral grew weary quickly. The defenders paired up with Milo now didn't even seem to be trying to catch him. Not that anyone could.<p>

Either way, this blowout (as it was turning out to be), was just what the doctor ordered for this crowd. As I made my way to the snack bar I heard the whispering conversations about my brother. Spoken in tones of awe and pride, as if he was their own son. I scowled and pushed past idle people, having no clue why I was angry, until I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned around quickly, only to be faced with Gus, grinning wildly.

Great.

"Hey, man, was that your brother out there?"

I considered lying. For some reason, I actually considered _lying. _

"Yeah." I answered, startled at the hostile thought of not being apart of the same family as my golden brother.

Where did that come from?

"He's _awesome_, how long has he been playing?"

"About a week." I informed my tormentor.

"What, really? Wow. I guess there is natural talent out there."

Gus patted my shoulder and walked away.

I looked back to the snack bar, now thriving with business and filled with lines, as my stomach growled annoyingly.

Stupid Gus.

I stalked back to my seat and watched the cheerleaders perform their halftime show.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay! new chapter! what'd you guys think?<strong>

**I hope it was okay, I wanted to get this out earlier, but writer's block...was being a bitch.**

**New deal: ten reviews=new chapter. Yes you can review more than once if you want, just say something different.**

**K?**

**K!**

**Ta Ta**

**=D**


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